Some are lovers
hiding 'neath covers,
while others fight,
make up at night.

I love to love
another,
learn
him backward
forward.

I love to yearn,
to be shot down,
the challenge,
high noon sun,
is where it's fun.

Find ways to rise,
each time
a higher climb,
new skills, improved,
not past my prime.

A learned whore
can be pleased more
often than
scared virgins,
prudish bores.

A whore for words
as men's swords
fall rusted to floors
the minds worth more
than ever before.

Play with me,
sing to me,
hide in every corner.
I will not leave
until he asks me.